Friday Bicycle Caption Contest - SPEAKING IN CAPITAL LETTERS
YOU KNOW WHEN YOU’VE HAD A PARTICULARLY CLOSE CALL WITH A CAR / BUS / LORRY / WHATEVER, WHEN YOU LOOK ACROSS AND REALISE THAT THE GUY CYCLING NEXT TO YOU SEEMS TO HAVE LOST TOO MUCH WEIGHT, IS CARRYING A SCYTHE, AND HAS EYES LIKE STARLIGHT GLITTERING ACROSS ETERNITY:
SO FOR TODAY’S CAPTION CONTEST, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS FIGURE OUT HOW DEATH WOULD INTRODUCE HIMSELF TO A FELLOW CYCLIST ONCE HIS PRESENCE HAD BECOME A NECESSITY.
AS USUAL, WE’RE OFFERING A [VIRTUAL] PRIZE THAT’S BEYOND THE GRASP OF MERE MORTALS - AN ETERNITY OF CONTEMPLATING EXISTENCE, WITH A TAILWIND TO HELP YOU ON YOUR WAY. OH, AND YOU CAN GIVE THE HORSE A SUGAR LUMP ON SUNDAYS TOO, IF YOU WANT TO. HIS NAME IS ‘BINKY ‘.
GOOD LUCK, AND REMEMBER,
YOU ONLY GET ONE CHANCE AT THIS, SO DO NOT MESS IT UP!
Nearing the end of his 784-mile ultra-sportive training ride for the day, Karl suddenly had a strange feeling. A feeling he knew well…he was being drafted.
He looked around to see a figure in a large, heavy, flapping black cloak. The figure had his head down but appeared not to be struggling to keep up.
Karl thought he recognised his strange-looking fellow sportsman.
HEY!!
Karl heard the words, but something wasn’t quite right - they were definitely from the cyclist behind but they weren’t out of breath…in fact, the weren’t in breath either.
OH BUGGER. LOOK. COULD YOU SLOW DOWN A BIT?
Karl eased off and the drafter came around to the side of him.
As he did so, it became obvious that something very odd was going on. The new cyclist was riding a bike made of the deepest black carbon. So black that it was hard to see, almost like it wasn’t there. And when he looked harder he could see a multitude of bone- and clock-shaped decals. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, one that said “I PAY ROAD TAX”
The bike was completely silent, but as he drew near Karl could hear strange clicking noises as his companion pedalled.
The figure also appeared to be prepared for some kind of jousting as he had a large wooden pole resting on the handle bars. Occasionally something else at one end of the pole seemed to glimmer in the sunlight.
The head of the cloak turned and Karl saw the unmoving grimace of a skeletal head.
“Death?”
UMM…YES.
Death reached down to his bottle cage and pulled out a water bottle. An odd-shaped water bottle with a very narrow middle. It appeared to be full of sand and there was very little left in the top half. Death peered into the bottle and shook it slightly before replacing it back in the cage.
YES, I FEAR SOMETHING BAD IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN, BUT THERE’S A SMALL PROBLEM.
Karl’s face was full of fear but he managed to add a tinge of quizzical to it. He pulled the brakes…
NO…ERR…OH
…and was glad that they actually seemed to be making him stop…
UMM…UH
…Death was slowing too but seemed to be panicing.
ARRGH
Karl coasted to a halt and the confused Death pulled up along side him. For a couple of seconds he appeared to try to track stand but then, as sure as summer turns to winter, he slowly toppled to the side, gravity took over, and he clattered to the ground.
SORRY. SORRY. BUGGER. I JUST CAN’T GET THE HANG OF THESE STUPID SHOES.
Brilliant - how can we top that?
Crunch, over the bonnet I flew, crunch, I hit the road. Painfully.
I lay there, eyes closed, trying to sense every cell of every muscle bone and sinew, mentally rebooting my body after the shock of the impact. I could hear voices and the sound of tyres rumbling past. I tried to move but my body had surrendered itself to the might of gravity and adrenaline and seemed fixed, rigid, whilst a gentle tingling, as from the lightest of rain, caressed my closed eyelids and face.
“That was lucky!” said a voice, confident and calm. I opened my eyes. “Are you OK? It’s always a shock.” A tall thin man, dressed in old fashioned cycling gear, was standing over me offering me his hand. “Up you get, come on.” I slowy raised my arm to grasp his hand. Flesh on flesh and a subtle electricity passed between us. He pulled and slowly, cautiously, I rose to me feet. “How does it feel?” he said, a smile of sympathy lighting his face. “Well you know, not as bad as I thought.” I replied.
“Come on, let’s get you back on your bike, I know a place, it’s not far.” Somehow his certainty seemed reassuring. He picked up my bike. “Nice bike” he said as he passed it to me. Well at least the bike’s ok I thought. “Steady” he said “you might be a bit wobbly at first” he gripped my arm and steadied me as I climbed aboard. I pulled back as the electricity sparked from him to me again.
“You coming then?” he asked. “Just follow me.” and climbed aboard his own machine and pedalled off slowly, casting a glimpse back at me. I have no idea why, but I followed him. It just seemed right. Work can wait, nothing urgent for today I thought. He is in command, he has taken charge.
The sun was shining, the breeze was warm, as we turned and headed out of the town, into the gentle rolling hills. We are riding still. That day was such a long, long, time ago.
Death. He’s not such a bad bloke really.
hehe - can’t top MagicRoundabout’s either … but here’s my effort.
‘THAT LORRY…’
‘yes?’
‘… IT TURNED LEFT.’
‘Oh. Are there bicycles in the afterlife?’
‘IF YOU LIKE’
‘Okay, then.’
Fantastic efforts from all this week - thank you so much for your contributions!
Here’s my effort:
“Yeah, I’ve been riding fixed for about a year now. I totally love the feeling of one-ness that you get with the bike…”
“YES….”
“…that feeling of flow, as you ride on through the traffic (f**king cagers!), that says you’re free from their petty restrictions…”
“YES, BUT…”
“Of course, dude, when you’re a rider like I am, you have a totally cool bike. Mine’s a proper track frame (not one of these rip-offs you see these days), deep rim wheels, Campag hubs, BB & crankset, Brooks saddle, and the most awesome polished vintage drop bars”
“NO BRAKES THEN?”
“Hell no! Besides, you’re safer without them. I mean, when you ride fixed without brakes, you know that you’re in touch with your surroundings, and your reactions are that much faster. Funny thing though. When that car pulled out back there and I started that totally awesome skip-stop, I could have sworn I heard the brakes squeaking….”
“SQUEAK?”
“Yeah, just like that. And when I looked down, there was a rat skeleton in an outfit just like yours, sitting on top of the handlebars, holding a tiny scythe. Hey look! He’s over there now, looking under one of the car tyres . . . ”
“YES. HE IS A COLLEAGUE OF MINE. WE ARE IN A SIMILAR LINE OF WORK. ANYWAY, I CAN’T STAND HERE CHATTING ALL DAY - I HAVE A DELIVERY TO MAKE. . .
“You mean you’re a messenger? Dude that totally rocks! Mind if I tag along with you for a few miles? I’m still feeling a bit shaken up about that . . . that . . . crash? Oh and that bike of yours. I mean, yeah, it’s veeeery cool. But carbon fibre is just so last year. Steel’s where it’s at now dude . . .”
“IT IS NOT CARBON. BINKY 2 IS WOVEN FROM FIBRES OF THE UTTERMOST REACHES OF THE NIGHT. BY THE WAY - DO YOU LIKE THE GEARING? I RIDE AN INFINITY:ZERO RATIO. IT CAN MAKE PULLING AWAY FROM THE LIGHTS A BIT OF A BUGGER, THOUGH ONCE YOU GET GOING . . . “